


Roses and Distant Echoes

by DearTimekeeper



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, F/M, Inspired by Beauty and the Beast, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-28
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2018-09-27 10:13:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10006877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DearTimekeeper/pseuds/DearTimekeeper
Summary: The palace fluctuated between one world and another. Time slowed and quickened its pace, never staying consistent. Now Rose found herself confined to the echoes of the past and future with a beast as her shadow.





	1. Beginning

Once upon a time, during the creation of the universe, there existed beings that lent influence to the balance of all to exist. These three beings existed outside of time and traversed through the lives of all living things at a whim. They kept watch over the Web of Time, making sure events within time coexisted, making sure that nothing upset the careful balance of the universe. 

It is often said that their creation coincided with the creation of the Web of Time. The sight they possessed was unique to only them. They viewed time as swirls and strings of golden energy all interconnected with every being that lived in the universe. 

Their names were lost, as the few who were aware of their existence had been mortals unable to withstand the passage of time. These three Guardians watched over all, ensuring order among the ephemeral lives they guarded and balancing the forces in the universe.

As the universe expanded and galaxies were born, the Guardians found fissures in space-time. Small cracks in reality that could be a cause for concern. One such fissure was deemed most dangerous. It bled time and warped reality, creating chaos that disturbed the Web of Time they so reverently guarded. It lay small on the side of a mountain surrounded by acres of abandoned woods. Even the animals that had inhabited the surrounding area had felt the change by the mountain, had felt the shifting in the air. The Guardians could sense the millions of possibilities surrounding the fissure, that daunting rift in time and space. They could see all who could come in contact with it, all who could die, all who could suffer, all the worlds that could be created, and all the worlds that could be torn apart. There was one possibility they saw shining brighter than all the others in which the rift would be safely guarded from unworthy and unwanted hands.

So the Guardians hung onto that thread of possibility and decided to exert their power; that power that they barely used for fear of its corruption. They pulled and unraveled other possible lives and threaded them together to protect the whole of the universe. It would bring pain, heartbreak and anger, but at the end, if the ephemeral beings they were influencing were worthy, the tangles in their lives would smooth out.

The rift lay dormant for many years. A palace was built on the side of the mountain where the rift resided. Generations were born and generations passed on. Then, one day a golden light started bleeding through. The rift had opened.


	2. A Storm Approaches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Prince is cursed.

The rain had been coming down heavily all day. The strong wind brought dark clouds over the castle and the garden that had hours ago been vibrant with color remained drowned in hues of gray and black. The trees bent violently, a terrifying dance that kept the servants of the palace tense in worry. It was the worst storm the spring had brought in years. The roar of the wind sounded like a cry of anger and grief. The thunder shook the very foundations in which everyone hid, lightning bringing only brief respite from the darkness encroaching over the castle. The absence of the Prince increased the nerves of the servants within, awaiting his return.

“Maybe one of us should go out looking for him?” worried Wilfred, “He may need help.”

He stood fidgeting by the high thin windows in the parlor, overlooking the path leading out into the trees. His eyes anxiously scanning the outskirts of the woods that touched the palace gates. Wilfred was an elderly man, the one servant who had grown attached to the Prince since the death of the King and Queen.  Prince James at age twenty seven experienced the unfortunate events that killed his family and left him with no one. The tragic accident that took his only living relatives away had left the Prince in a seemingly unending period of mourning. His icy blue eyes that once held light and hope had darkened into the gray of a tumultuous storm. No longer holding any of the previous happiness and hope that had been evident in the past. His posture would often remain rigid, as though he were only the shell of the man that existed before. While he had more luxuries than others in the land of Gallifrey, more power and status than anyone, he was not happy. To other nobles that met him after his loss he seemed spoiled and arrogant, to those close to him like kind Wilfred, Prince James was just searching for a family. His mercurial moods were caused by loneliness and guilt. Although the events surrounding the death of his family had remained private, the servants of the castle were aware of what had happened but knew better than to ever bring it up even in private conversations. The Prince blamed himself for the events that transpired. Everyone knew that, but they were unsure how to convince him otherwise. The only time they had touched on the topic they were met with a coldness that made them hesitant to ever involve themselves in conversation with the Prince, even Wilfred had been abnormally silent and hesitant in his presence. 

“I shouldn’t have let him send me away,” replied Jack grimacing at the scene playing through the windows, his jaw clenched tight as several branches snapped and fell to the ground, “The storm is too strong to send anyone else out there, and no horse would willingly leave the stables to trek through that.” Captain Jack Harkness was head of the royal guard. Although no longer as close to the Prince as he once had been, he was the only one allowed to question the Prince as an advisor of sorts. Jack paced in front of the windows annoyed at the disregard for safety Prince James showed. It wasn’t the first time a thoughtless action of his left him open to danger. Prince James seemed to crave that danger, the adventure, the adrenaline. Perhaps his lack of regard for his safety in the past couple of months should have prepared Jack to argue staying by the Prince’s side when he was dismissed. His deep blue eyes quickly canvassed the grounds as he stepped next to Wilfred, in the hope the Prince would appear through the trees at any moment.

 

…

 

James was angry. Maybe that was an understatement. He was livid. The storm had knocked several trees down, forcing him to take a longer route back to the castle. Nothing was ever in his favor. Maybe it was the weather, the rain drenching him, the icy wind clawing at his face, whatever the reason, James found that horrible empty feeling that only prevailed during sleep to be growing inside him. It only exacerbated the anger at himself, and at his situation. He was in a constant state of anger and self loathing, but the depths those feelings that tormented him had reached had his hands shaking. He would never allow those feelings to overwhelm him so much outside of the privacy of his own room, but it had crept up on him, silently nudging away all logical thought and leaving him with an ache in his chest. His boots squelched through mud and climbed over fallen limbs from trees. He could no longer see the normal path he took back to the palace but it did not phase him. He had spent all of his childhood exploring the expanse of the trees around him and knew every twist and turn among them. His mother had often told him it was his gift, his sense of direction. He’d never get lost. He would always find his way home. He felt it was more of a burden now, to always go home. That home felt empty and devoid of any trace of happiness. Instead it reminded him of all he had lost and would never have again. He had never appreciated the presence of his parents in that home when they were still there.

The palace had been in his family for many generations, he remembered that from the monotonous droning of the tutors he had been forced to listen to as he grew up. It was built by a great great something or other hundreds of years ago. It was risky they had told him, to build a castle on the side of a mountain. No one really had a clear explanation as to why his ancestor had taken such a risk. He had often wandered around the long winding hallways, passing door upon door, exploring the large expanse that at just seven years old he had only seen half of. It was a bit overwhelming, the number of rooms the palace housed, but his mother had loved it for when they’d had to host banquets and dances to honor those in the kingdom. His father had never considered it as an inconvenience as James had started to see it, he’d simply seen it as the opulence people of their ‘status’ needed to have in order to maintain the image everyone had of them. It had only been the three of them living in the palace. If the servants were to be included, they still had more than enough room to spare. James was practical like that. For royalty he had often spent too much time with the servants as his father would constantly reprimand him. But shouldn’t he spend time with them James had always wondered. If he were to be king one day and rule fairly over everyone, shouldn’t he be knowledgeable about the conditions the people lived in, about what complaints they had and whether or not he could address those complaints. For someone as practical as he, it seemed only logical. He was only putting the lessons he had to study and constantly read over into action. There was never any reason not to be open to less frivolous ways of life.

He had grown into his own person much to his father’s disappointment and mother’s delight. He had grown tired of all the rules chucked at him and decided to rebel against all conditional norms the high sanding society he was constantly surrounded by had claimed he was a part of.

And now, he no longer cared. He had never had the best relationship with his father, but he was his father and he had loved him and now he was gone. His mother, always kind and strong, had been the one to lend him strength even when he was rebelling against them. He was in his own bubble of grief and maybe it was a bit selfish, to put that mourning that overwhelmed him over all the duties and responsibilities he had as Prince of Gallifrey.

Wiping the water dripping from his face once again, he clenched his hands into fists and picked up his pace. 

Once he finally reached the castle he pushed open the wide doors and stomped inside, leaving tracks of mud in the gleaming hallway. Jack took one look at his face and stepped to the side with a small nod, not meeting his eyes. Wilfred bowed his head and quickly closed the doors behind him. It would do no good to attempt to hold a conversation with the Prince when he was in one of these moods. They were all well versed in noticing when he’d be unreasonable to talk to. It was not as rare of an occurrence for them as it once had been.

The servants that had wandered out from their quarters when they’d heard the Prince had been left alone in the storm, quickly shuffled back to the kitchens as they saw the resigned faces of Jack and Wilfred.

No sooner had the doors been shut that there was a knock at the door. Wilfred paused, unsure he should open it in the presence of the Prince since he would not be looking forward to company. Not many had visited the castle in months and certainly not without sending an advanced warning. He stepped back to the door and hesitated. The decision was taken by the Prince himself, who had only made it a few steps towards the staircase before the knocking started.

With a scowl he marched to the doors and roughly yanked them open. The little patience he had been in possession of when he had first arrived was quickly wearing thin. Before him was a woman, head hunched low and arms holding a shawl tight around her, as the wind attempted to pull it away. Her face was hidden behind locks of dark stringy hair and the top of the shawl acted as a poor cover from the heavy rain.

“What do you want?” he asked, his voice loud and the statement curt. The sooner the woman left the better. She lowered her head even more and James wondered how she was still upright in such a hunched position.

The voice that escaped the frail figure was rough and quiet, “Please, I only seek shelter from the storm.” James scowled and and took a step back.

“Find somewhere else. You’re not welcome here,” he turned from her, barely glancing at her figure as it froze in the doorway. James did not have the will to help anyone. He was not in the right state of mind to deal with a beggar at his door. He could feel the tremors in his hands and just wanted to lock himself away in his room before he broke down in front of everyone.

“Please,” The woman cried out, her beg echoing in the hall then lowering back to a pleading tone “Just shelter, I don’t ask for food or bed. I can stay out by the door,” her voice was trembling, desperate, “and I’ll give you this flower as payment,” she rushed out, “It’s all I have.” The Prince paused, grinding his teeth together, nostrils flaring and turned. The woman’s hand held out a red rose. She began rambling and stuttering, not yet lifting her head, “I sell flowers back in town, so many different ones. I have many people compliment them, please. I just got lost. I didn’t mean to-please, I only-”

“I don’t need anyone to come begging at my door!” he shouted and threw the rose she held to the ground. The woman froze. No longer shaking in desperation, and slowly withdrew her still outstretched hand. “I don't have time to spend on someone who can't stick to a single path in a storm and comes begging to the Prince’s home.” He was desperate to leave the conversation, for the woman to disappear and let him fall into that despair that clung heavily to his worn heart, and his anger was fueled by his unwillingness to see even more suffering out beyond the castle gates when he could not handle his own.

“You are a cruel man” she said, voice stronger than it had been before. There was a controlled rage behind her words. It held meaning, purpose. The woman slowly straightened her hunched back, standing tall, and rose her head, chin high, looking him straight in the eyes. He took a step back eyes wide at finally seeing her hidden visage.

She seemed disfigured, her skin taut against her bones. She seemed young but looked half dead. Her eyes were dark and had ruptured blood vessels. Her lips, thin and chapped, were pressed tightly together. The hands that had been wrapped in her thread bear shawl now pointed towards him. The pale sickly color of her skin was seen with a new clap of lightning as she took a step closer. “You ephemerals always have decisions. You have choices and if you had chosen differently none of this would be happening.”

“What are you talking about?” asked James annoyed at the cryptic remarks. His voice was strong and steady despite the fear that flooded his being at the utter emptiness in her gaze. The creature that stood before him was not human.

“I am only a vessel. I was given a task by being more powerful than me. To let you choose which way your life would go. And you have chosen. You have chosen to let yourself be a slave to your anger and hatred and pain.” Her voice was not judgmental, but factual. The woman stepped closer, stopping at the very edge of the doorway and her eyes flashed to solid black.

James released a loud yell of pain and fell to the floor. As Wilfred and Jack attempted to go to his aid, the woman raised her other arm and they were thrown against the wall, falling unconscious.

“Listen to me carefully young Prince of Gallifrey,” her voice took on an echoing quality as her eyes became glazed, as if watching something else unfold, “Your eyes will reflect ugliness and terror. Whoever sees you will cower away in disgust,” the woman slowly lowered her hand, “Your voice will bring discomfort and fear. You will no longer be seen as a Prince but a beast. The monster, you believe yourself to be.”

Her eyes focused back on him and she took one step closer to his crouching form, that still trembled in pain.

“And your home,” the castle began shaking, a low rumbling erupted from the ground, “This large comfortable palace and its grounds will never be a safe place for you. It will act as a doorway to all fears of the universes. You and those residing here will only find true solace when you allow a rose to bloom with love.” She paused and crouched a bit closer to him, “Even if it takes centuries.” She straightened out again, “Remember that this was your choice.” James was finally able to stop shaking as the pain that had engulfed him dispersed, and lifted his head only to the see the woman lean her head back and scream, her jaw opening to an unnatural angle, then she dropped to the floor, her body contorted into a sick shape.

This was the start of years full of misery and wonder for the inhabitants of the castle. But there was a light beyond the struggles they faced, for a Rose would find them when hope seemed impossible.


	3. Her Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Rose follows footprints.

It was often said that the orphans at the Powell Estates were unworthy of the kindness they were shown. The truth of the matter was that they were rarely shown any kindness at all.

As the lonely unwanted children they were often reminded of being, they were forced to meet the strict requirements those in charge of the orphanage put in place.

Winters were perhaps the most difficult to overcome; the cold unforgiving temperature of the outside world reflecting the manner in which they were treated. With little to no money from benefactors, the threadbare clothes they wore allowed the freezing weather to seep into their bones through the stone walls of the drafty old building. The younger children in particular suffered more than others. Those that made up the older faction bullied them into giving away extra blankets and the little food they were bestowed with, that is of course, unless Rose was around.

As one who had known the orphanage for most of her life, Miss Rose Tyler knew the inner workings of the hierarchy within. She had suffered the same fate as the younger children when she had first arrived at the orphanage as well.

Having arrived at age 5 to the unaffectionate world of orphan hood, Rose made it her mission to provide the motherly love all the children craved and had rarely ever experienced. She had been more fortunate than the other orphans she befriended. She had come from a loving home. After the death of her father, her mother had done her best in providing Rose with everything she could through her hard work. She still remembered seeing her mother washing and drying clothing, her hands red and cracked from the work they did. Although, they never had much, Rose had never felt in need of anything. She had been content having her mother’s warmth, affection and love, than the coldness she witnessed in the streets when the wealthy went by in their carriages. As soon as she had reached age 16, the indispensable help she provided to the women stuck with the duty of caring for the children, allowed her to become a part of their staff. She did not work for money, but for room and board, as it was the only way to ensure her stay. If the women were to be quite honest, they would be horribly lost without Miss Tyler to help with the unruly and ungrateful children.

Now 20 Miss Rose Tyler had developed a routine in caring for the children and the children in return had grown to respect and admire her caring nature. She had also grown accustomed to seeing children come and go. It was a melancholy sadness that filled her on such occasions. The children were given apprenticeships at a young age in order to have some means of compensation. As soon as children were of age, they were expected to find a job to support themselves and leave the orphanage in order to allow more room for other children without families. Rose did her best to prepare the children for the world in which they would be pushed towards all alone, but having never experienced it herself firsthand, she found it difficult to approach the subject. 

On this particular afternoon, Rose felt a bit unsettled. She was never one to ignore her instincts, and the foreboding feeling at the pit of her stomach that had presented itself upon her awakening, left her concerned.

Rushing past the dining hall, arms busy with the clean sheets for the sick children in the nursery, Rose noticed a strange silence come over everyone. As she paused in her hurry, she saw eyes shifting away from her and children nudging each other, fidgeting in their seats. Curious as to what trouble they could have possibly gotten into that even she was being kept in the dark, Rose gazed suspiciously at all those that dared to look up.

“Well?” She put a hand on her hip as she shifted the sheets she held in the other, “What are you all hiding?”

She caught the eye of one of the older kids, Matthew,  a very quiet tall boy that tended to keep to himself. He glanced meaningfully at the empty chair by the right corner of the room. Rose furrowed her brows and looked around the room once more.

“Where’s Tim?” She turned in a circle, her dress fluttering around her ankles and at their reluctance became greatly concerned. “Someone answer now or I'll bring Matron Redfern in here,” she threatened, aware that dealing with the strict Matron was something none of them would want to be subjected to given the chance. She was avoided by all when she cared to leave her office.

A small voice from one of the younger children, quickly answered, “He's left Miss. Early this morning he set out. He said there was a way to climb the gate he'd found during his lessons and that he was heading North, to town. He's only trying to get away from Baines Miss. he's awfully mean to him.” Her shaking figure dropped back to her seat as other kids glared at her. Rose quickly ran out of the room, leaving the pile of sheets behind on a clear table. She hurried down the hall, skidding to a stop in order to climb up the stairs, skipping steps to get to the matrons study, a behavior that would have instantly been reprimanded had one of the tutors been present.

A missing child in this weather greatly concerned Rose, especially considering how small young Timothy was. He was a very clever child with a timid character, but sometimes he would get the strangest ideas. Normally he was encouraged by Rose to prod at what his imagination came up with, but in this case it was the wrong choice to make.

“Matron Redfern,” Rose burst through the door of the study, causing the blonde woman with the stern face to spill the tea that had been on its way to her mouth.

“Miss Tyler! What is the meaning of this behavior! You must always knock before entering a room!” She dabbed at the tea staining the bodice of her dress while scowling at Rose.

“I'm terribly sorry Matron, but one of the children is missing. Young Timothy Latimer,” she bowed her head twisting her hands that were clasped together in worry.

“Miss Tyler, as an orphanage we always tend to have some children run away from time to time,” it was clear by the look she was giving Rose, the Matron thought her to be too attached to the orphans, such sentiments were not correct in her view.

“I'm aware Matron, but it’s not right just leaving him out there. It's winter and this snow storm is picking up the more we wait here instead of going out looking for him!” Rose’s voice picked up as she realized she would get nowhere. The Matron although not uncaring, always followed the rules she was given, never deviating from order.

“I will remind you of your position here Miss Tyler,” she said, leaning towards her, “You care for the children that are in our care, since Mr. Latimer clearly does not appreciate what we have been providing for him, he is no longer our concern.” Rose tried to argue, about to interrupt as her anger at the Matron grew, but she rose from her chair and lifted her hand to silence her before she could get any words out. “All I can do is notify authorities in town to keep an eye out for him and perhaps look through the outskirts of the woods, but there is nothing else.”

Rose’s hands clenched into fists and she took a deep breath, “I would like to go out to search for him Matron, just around the grounds.” The Matron sighed looking at her shrewdly. Rose had never liked how that particular look made her feel. Like she was being examined and found wanting.

“I do not think that’s wise Miss Tyler, as you yourself said, the storm will only get worse.”

“I will stay close to the building Matron,” Rose fidgeted, wanting to rush out of the office before the storm worsened. Normally Matron Redfern would have attempted to dissuade her, but Rose’s words had that stubborn undertone everyone knew not to argue with. 

Receiving a hesitant curt nod, Rose rushed out quickly, going down to her quarters to retrieve her coat. It was a threadbear thing, patched up with different pieces of cloth she had managed to scrape together. She wrapped an old scarf she had knitted around her neck and thrust her hands into holey gloves as she shut the door and once again skipped down the stairs. Her worry amounted as she pushed open the main door to the orphanage and her eyes started watering from the icy wind.

Timothy was a small boy, not frail like the other boys teased him to be, but nonetheless a small child. And no child could survive out in the cold for too long.

Holding her scarf close to her face, blocking the icy wind from her mouth and nose, she stepped out into the quickly building snow. Her boots luckily, were still in pretty good shape. It would be a while yet before she had to resign herself to come back, unless she was willing to suffer through frostbite.

After walking past the gates that separated the orphanage from the woods that lead to the mountains, Rose began calling  Tim’s name. Walking for several minutes on the path to town she continued yelling for him.

“Tim!” She called, stepping closer to the outskirts of the woods. Her voice hardly discerned through the sounds of the wind picking up. Rose trudged across the snow, moving closer to the trees. There on a low branch was a torn scarf. She picked it up and squeezed it in her hands.

“Oh no, Tim.” Rose sighed, in frustration and determination. Tim had clearly strayed from the path into town. While the closely growing trees in the woods provided more shelter from the wind, it also meant, finding him would be significantly more difficult. Rose realized that while she had promised not to wander too far, and to return shortly, she in all good consciousness could not go back to the orphanage without taking a risk in finding Timothy. He had often taken refuge from the other children with Rose, helping her with her chores and peppering her with questions. She had begun thinking of him as a little brother of sorts. She cared for all the children of course, but Tim needed more of her affection and advice than all the others.

Taking high steps through the snow, she wandered off the path, following barely discernible footprints that the wind and snow had been incapable of hiding amidst the closely packed trees. She continued calling his name as she made her way, her voice breaking from the strain and cold. It occurred to her halfway through the journey that it was rather foolish of her to wander off without telling anyone. She was close to giving up. The longer she trekked through the woods, the more unlikely it seemed that she’d find Tim. She had been out for over an hour if the fading light was anything to go by. Her fingers were beginning to feel numb and her body shook as the cold seeped through her clothes. Yet at the moment she looked up from the faint prints she followed, about to resign herself to failure, she saw something in the horizon. It flickered, and if she had blinked she would have missed it all together.

She often wondered about that moment many years later. One second off and her life would have been completely different. It is disconcerting how small fractions of time can quickly change the direction a life can go

But at that moment, when failure and disappointment were washing over her, she could have sworn she saw a palace up ahead. Just for a fleeting second, before the wind dragged falling snow across her face. Before the image of the palace seemed to blend into the color of the snow and gray mountains she knew were beyond the woods.

Not one to leave questions unanswered, Rose chose to go further into the woods, avoiding the fact that the sun would soon set. It was an unwise decision many would say, but she remembers it as the best choice she made.

She headed in the same direction the prints led thinking that maybe Timothy had found shelter from the storm in the palace she saw.

As she emerged from the thinning trees she approached a clearing and her steps faltered. The wind felt different as she took a step out from the shelter of the trees, warmer and softer. There was a soft haze of light that gently dimmed the longer she stood in shock.

The mountains that surrounded the region of land she was born in, loomed kilometers ahead of her but just before that there was the same flickering she had seen before. It was like a haze of light blue bothering her eyes. She squinted trying to see beyond the blurring blue flickering in and out.

Something was there, but it wasn't. She took a step closer and suddenly it flickered back into focus.

With a gasp Rose looked wide eyed at the palace that appeared before her eyes. It lay several minutes walk from where she stood, but with its grand size, it was easy to discern. 

To her it seemed like the haze that was hiding the castle away was suddenly lifted. Tall gray white towers rose high into the clouds and the back of it seemed to be built into the mountain behind it. There were dozens of windows spreading in either direction. Before it was an open iron gate that looked as though it surrounded the whole clearing. She began walking closer, in awe of what she had never known to be just beyond the orphanage. In front of the gate was a path of gray stone, with shrubbery growing on either side. She saw large bushes to the left, overgrown next to tall weeping willows. It seemed like a large garden but the bars from the gate made it hard to see. To the right expanded another path that led to what looked like a worn gazebo and beyond it she could hear rushing water, although again her view was obscured. Rose had never seen anything like it.

The only palaces she was privy to were those in the books she was capable of reading. Even there her imagination had never come up with anything of this magnitude.

The snow, that in the woods had reached above her ankles was only an inch as she wandered closer to the frosty shrubs that stood on two sides of a stone path leading beyond the gate and to the entrance of the castle. She hesitated for a moment before stepping on the path and finally getting a closer look as to what the grounds of the palace looked like.

In awe Rose’s eyes strayed to the flowers blooming in the light dusting of snow. The roses grew on both sides of the path, a pale yellow color that seemed to brighten the longer she looked at them. The crunch of snow under her feet seemed deafening in such a silent surrounding. While it was serene to an extent, it also felt foreboding and she shivered once more, wrapping her arms around her damp jacket.

Her pace quickened and she looked ahead of her once more. The palace still lay so far away. Her steps hurried, hoping that she'd find Tim safe and sound.

As she approached the tall doors, she looked down at her attire and tried to straighten her coat out. The people living here would surely be used to seeing things better than what she had on.

She felt terribly small gazing up at the top of the doors, which loomed above her three times her height.

Raising a shaking hand towards the iron knocker she took a deep breath and said a short prayer, then hit it against the door three times.

Fidgeting in place, she waited for a minute before knocking again. As she worried her bottom lip she heard slight rustling from beyond the door

Clearing her throat Rose called out, “Hello? Is anyone there?” She paused listening to what sounded like strained whispers. “I've lost a friend of mine, his name is Timothy. I just want to take him home.” She stopped to listen again but everything was silent. Her breathing seemed louder somehow. Was it always like that?

The groan of the opening door made her jump and she felt the thudding of her heart against her ribcage. Her trembling hands nervously twisted into the clasp of her jacket.

No one stepped out of the slightly open door and Rose wondered if it would be sheer stupidity to enter the ominous palace that had appeared out of nowhere.

She leaned in closer trying to see inside.

“Hello?” She heard her voice echo in the dark room beyond and stepped closer “Can I come in?”

Her hand touched the door and she pulled it away quickly as it swung open completely. Rose looked back to where she came from and noticed it was getting darker out. Taking another deep breath and holding onto the small amount of courage she had left, she stepped inside.

There was a dim light coming from lit candles by a large staircase. Other than that it was dark everywhere she strained to look at.

“Umh, hello?” she tried again, her nerves making her voice shake. She walked further into the foyer, contemplating whether or not to leave. Even if Tim was somewhere in the castle, the size of it would make it close to impossible of looking for him. The darkness and dust she could see made her wonder whether anyone even lived there. But then again, who had lit the candles?

“Careful,” a voice called out and Rose spun around quickly, “that rug is easy to trip over. The corner sticks up a bit.” A woman stepped out from the shadows her brown hair pulled back at the nape of her neck, and her dress, a simple brown one with an apron tied around her waist, reached her ankles. She gave Rose a kind smile before approaching her. “I'm Sarah Jane. Why don't you come into the kitchen for some tea?”

Before Rose could respond another voice joined in.

“Oh no, you brought another one?” Rose’s eyes darted behind the woman, Sarah Jane, and saw a man nervously looking past the staircase.

“I didn't bring her Jack. Clearly she is welcome. The doors opened for her. And the poor dear was just searching for Tim.” Rose’s eyes darted from Sarah Jane to Jack, unsure of how to respond.

“I didn't mean to cause any problems…” her voice trailed off as Sarah Jane glared at Jack.

“Nonsense dear,” she smiled at her. Jack rolled his eyes and hurriedly ushered them towards the hallway to the left of the entrance.

“Just get to the kitchen quick please,” he smiled tightly at Rose before heading in the opposite direction with rushed steps

  
“Come along, dear,” Sarah Jane called as she turned and walked away. Rose looked back to the door, considering her options, but the doors suddenly shut, blowing out one of the candles. Bewildered, she quickly rushed after Sarah Jane. The sooner she found Tim, the sooner they could go back to the orphanage.


	4. Rose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a name brings hope and doors have a mind of their own.

There were many questions that crossed Rose’s mind as she stumbled towards the faint light at the end of the hall. She couldn't focus on one long enough to voice her thoughts. They raced through her mind as she looked around the dark hallway; the ornate furniture barely visible to her squinting eyes. This was the most adventurous thing that had happened to her in all her life and the pounding heart in her chest kept her aware of the fact. Perhaps she should have been more distrustful of these strangers, maybe even fearful of a palace that had appeared out of nowhere. (And didn't that occurrence remind her of something, a long distant memory she kept losing her grasp on.) But all she felt was a sense of excitement, an ever-present thrill that had her eyes trying to soak in as many detail as they could. It was the very feeling that she was often reprimanded for whilst she was growing up. She flourished in situations where others would wilt.

She squinted in the dark, trying not to trip over vases and rugs that lay forgotten and knocked aside. She paused when she thought she heard humming and quickened her pace when she was certain she heard scurrying close behind. She was full of every emotion that could be named but there was a permeating sense of uneasiness that rose above all as she approached the awaiting Sarah Jane at a lit doorway. She felt like she was being watched.

With one last wary look behind her, catching a glimpse of something small and white dash across the hall, she stepped into the room. It was a kitchen. Lit by a fire that warded off the chill that had been stronger in the halls. Rose took a deep breath and unclenched her hands, relaxing significantly by the warmth and light in the kitchen. Two women stood with their backs to the door, unaware of their entrance. One stirring a small pot and the other poking at the fireplace with a look of concentration.

“Martha, we’ll need another cup of tea tonight,” Sarah Jane said walking toward a shelf on the side of the large oven. The woman stirring the pot turned and her eyes widened as she took in Rose. Rose adjusted her dress and stopped herself from fidgeting with the buttons on her coat.

“Another one?” her voice held disbelief and her small frame approached Rose as though she were some specimen on display. “How…” she trailed off and turned back to Sarah Jane, head tilted expectantly.

“She knocked on the door,” she smiled and opened the tin of biscuits she held in her hands, “and the doors opened.” Sarah Jane grinned mischievously while Martha remained speechless, her dark eyes darting back to Rose every few seconds.

“We haven’t had visitors in ages,” a soft hesitant voice spoke out and startled Rose who had been watching the interaction between Martha and Sarah Jane closely. The other woman that had been fixing the fire walked up to her, “My name’s Lynda, Miss. It’s nice to see a new face around here.”

Rose, remembering her manners, smiled back and introduced herself with a small nod, “I’m Rose. Rose Tyler.”

Now it was Lynda who stared at her with wide eyes, carefully taking a couple steps back from her. She heard the soft conversation Martha and Sarah Jane had been having come to a stop and found that they were staring at her as well. Rose fidgeted in place and then cleared her throat.

“I don’t mean to be rude but I really should be going and you mentioned Tim before,” Rose gestured back to the hall, “Is he here? Matron Redfern is probably worried for us already. I told her I wouldn’t wander too far and it’s already been hours since I left.” She bit her lip, nervous and a little self conscious at being the center of attention.

“Sorry, did you say your name was Rose?” asked Martha, “It’s actually Rose.”

Rose furrowed her brows and crossed her arms over her chest defensively, “It’s surely not that strange to meet someone with the name Rose.”

“Oh no! I’m not-” she cut herself off with a wry grin, “I like your name, it’s just I don’t think you understand what a coincidence that is…” Her gaze turned thoughtful and Martha turned her head back to Sarah Jane who only raised her eyebrows in silent communication, “or maybe more than a coincidence.”

“I’m sorry but none of you are making any sense,” Rose’s confusion was evident on her face. She was also growing impatient with their fascination in her, “Could you please just tell me where I can find Tim.”

Lynda walked past Rose, making sure to keep her distance, “I’ll go fetch him, Miss. He’s being minded by Wilf.” She all but ran out of the room and Rose looked back to Sarah Jane and Martha.

“Don’t mind her,” smiled Sarah Jane turning back to the stove Martha had abandoned.

Martha nodded in agreement, “She’s just a bit superstitious.”

Before Rose could begin to question them as to what superstitious Lynda could possibly have to fear from her, Sarah Jane began pouring tea and motioned for her to sit. Without giving Rose a chance to speak she then proceeded to recount the way in which Timothy found himself at the palace.

The medium sized wooden table where Rose sat was positioned close to the fire so she carefully took off her coat and gloves as she listened intently. She wouldn’t be able to fully relax until she had Tim standing in front of her, but she wasn’t as concerned as she previously had been. Seeing how kind Sarah Jane was, and the patient motherly tone she spoke in, put her mind at ease.

“We found him in the garden. He was in an awful state, hair practically frozen and lips tinted blue. The only reason any of us saw him was because he wandered by the rose bushes,” she paused to take a sip of her tea and placed two biscuits on a plate for Rose as she continued, “None of us go out by the garden, it’s too dangerous this time of year, but we make sure to care for the roses. We don’t want James to unleash his temper on us.” Although the words themselves brought some concern out in Rose, the way in which Sarah Jane referred to this James was fond and sad and not at all fearful. She also had not overlooked the fact that apparently danger lurked in their garden. Rose had not noticed anything out of the ordinary when she had looked around, but then again it was a large expanse of land and she had only seen a portion of it from her place by the pathway. 

“Who’s James?” she asked, wiggling her fingertips on the teacup as they warmed back to normal temperature.

“Prince James,” said Martha, taking a seat with a bowl of broth next to Sarah Jane. She gently blew on the steam and cupped the bowl in her hands, “This is his palace you’re in. Sarah Jane doesn’t bother with formalities since she’s known him since he was a little boy.” Rose looked to both of them for a hint of deception but found none. 

“I’ve never heard of him. I didn’t think there were any Prince’s left let alone a palace like this.” 

Sarah Jane and Martha shared another look, but before they could answer a warm bundle rushed into Rose’s side. 

“You came to find me!” Came the relieved and awed voice of the little boy. Rose, quickly getting over her initial surprise at the embrace, put her arms around him and felt some of the tension in her shoulders dissipate. The worry she had carried since she left the orphanage was put to rest as she pulled back and smiled at Tim. 

“Well of course I did,” she smoothed back his hair and straightened out his shirt, “Couldn't very well leave you out in the snow. Although…” her face took on a more stern expression and Tim’s wide smile fell, “it was incredibly thoughtless leaving the orphanage. Especially considering the weather.”

“I didn't realize it would get so bad. I thought I’d get to town,” his voice was repentant and Rose sighed. Reaching to the plate at the table she handed Tim a biscuit and ruffled his hair.

“You’re forgiven, but we should head back as soon as possible,” Rose gathered her coat and gloves and stood. She was interrupted before she was able to thank the women for their hospitality.

“Alright I’m back. Took care of our little problem and lit some more candles in the halls,” Jack walked into the kitchen grinning and once spotting Timothy took a bow, “Young sir, may inquire as to where you're headed?” 

Tim grinned, “Miss Rose and I are headed back to the orphanage now.” Jack’s playful grin quickly turned serious and he abruptly straightened up, his eyes locked on Rose. 

“Your name is Rose?” He asked, tone urgent. Having had enough the shock her name instilled in all those around her Rose scowled. 

“Yes it bloody well is! I don't understand why all of you seem so caught up in my name! It's Rose, nothing special.” She turned to Tim who looked at her wide eyed, “Don't you dare repeat that word.” Tim nodded hurriedly and grabbed Rose’s outstretched hand. 

“On the contrary, I think you'll find that the name Rose is very special indeed,” Jack smiled softly, “And I don't think it'd be prudent for you to leave.” 

Rose set her jaw and squinted her eyes in suspicion, “Why not?” 

Jack's smile turned into a full out grin, “It's too dark out to travel.”

“I think we’ll be fine. Come on Tim.” Rose marched past Jack and pulled Tim along with her.

Sarah Jane spoke up as they walked through the hallway they had come from, “Rose, it may be best to wait until morning just to be safe. You’ll get lost in the dark.” 

“I have a good sense of direction. We’ll be fine.” Rose paused in front of the door leading out of the palace and turned back to Sarah Jane and Martha. Lynda stood back by the hall, nervously looking around the room as if waiting for something to jump out. Maybe she felt the same uneasiness Rose had when she first walked through those halls. Although, with the candles lit, her fear seemed more foolish. 

“Thank you so much for your hospitality. I don't mean to be rude by leaving so urgently but there are people who’ll be worried for us,” Rose smiled weakly in gratitude. 

“It's no problem at all,” replied Martha her smile strained. Jack looked on solemnly as Sarah Jane nodded and Rose turned back to leave. 

The pull she gave on the door was ineffective and the forceful push she tried instead only bruised her arm. After a couple more tries she huffed and turned to Jack, eyes flashing.

“Did you lock the door? Is there a reason we can't leave?” Her jaw once again clenched and fingers wrapped tightly on Tim’s arm, Rose resembled a wolf protecting her pup. Jack chuckled and told them to step back.

“Sometimes this place has a mind of its own,” he pushed and the doors opened with ease, but as Rose made to step closer they shut once more.

“This isn't funny!” yelled Rose her frustration evident by the pink tint on her cheeks and furrowed brow. 

“I assure you. I'm not trying to be funny,” Jack looked thoughtfully at Rose and then Tim, “Tim why don't you try to step out alone, and then Rose you can follow after.” 

Already uncomfortable with the trouble they were encountering in leaving the palace, Rose wasn't sure of what to think about the request. Her first priority was of course Tim. If he were to leave, even if these people somehow locked her in here, he'd be able to get help one way or another. Although the snow was some concern. She looked back at Martha, Sarah Jane, and Lynda who looked on curiously. Somehow she didn't think any of them would hurt her. Turning back to Jack she nudged Tim forward and took several steps back. 

“It's alright,” she responded to Tim’s worried look, “I'll be right behind you.” 

Jack once again pushed the door open and motioned for Tim to step outside. This time the doors did not close and Tim stood out in the small amount of snow on the path. Rose smiled and moved to follow after him, only to step back in shock as the door once again slammed shut. 

“Well there you have it,” said Martha rolling her eyes at the ceiling. Jack let out a brief laugh of disbelief. 

“Tim!” Rose called out hitting her hand against the door. 

“I'm fine but the door won't budge,” came his muffled response. 

Rose rounded on Jack, now angry, “Open the door! He can't be out there on his own!” 

He raised his arms in a placating manner, “Just step away from the door and he’ll be able to get in.” 

With a huff of frustration Rose stepped away, “Try the door again Tim!” 

The door opened and Tim rushed in again, a confused look on his face, “Why can't she leave?” He asked everyone standing around. Rose placed her arm around Tim’s shoulder her frustration causing her hands to tremble. 

“I'd like the answer to that as well.” Rose was tired of the meaningful looks they gave each other, the silent communication that excluded her from something that clearly had to do with her. Jack’s calm and curious countenance did nothing to soothe her frustration. With every minute she spent with them she had more questions than answers. 

There was a brief pause as the servants of the palace all tried to come up with an answer that wouldn't sound too insane. Noticing their looks she sighed.

“I'd like the truth please,” she requested her voice even and calm, although she felt overwhelmed by everything that had occurred. 

“The truth,” said Jack drawing out the word, “is that there are some security measures in place in the palace. If the doors shut it means it's not safe out there. The snow storm is still strong.” 

“There's barely any snow out there,” Rose pointed out. 

“Like I said security measures assure our safety on these grounds. Therefore, not as much snow reaches us either.” 

With pursed lips Rose examined Jacks calm stoic face. His blue eyes met hers trying to exude confidence and reassurance. “You’re lying,” she sighed, “but let's say I believe in this ‘security measure’ when will I be able to leave?” 

“She's good,” laughed Martha, her eyes full of mirth waiting for Jack to respond. 

“By morning you should be able to leave with Tim.” Jack smiled a disarming grin but Rose was not convinced. 

“Should?” 

“If this incident happens again I promise I'll explain everything,” Jack’s face was earnest, “Trust me.” Rose could see no ill intentions in the gaze he didn't break. But the small grimace he let escape let Rose know exactly what he was thinking at that moment. Why should she trust him? A complete stranger she had barely spoken to upon entering. However, she saw the same sadness she had seen in Sarah Jane when she had spoken of Prince James and that same tiny spark of hope that lay dormant, waiting. That hope that spoke of wonder and happiness yet to be fulfilled. She had always trusted her instincts, and she chose to do so at that moment as well. 

“Alright then. We’ll stay the night,” Rose acquiesced. She heard sighs of relief from the women standing away from them and Sarah Jane soon touched her arm. 

“I’ll show you to your rooms for the night then.” She started leading them up the stairs right across from the door, and Rose and Tim trailed after her with a smile at Jack, Martha, and Lynda who had yet to move from her spot by the hallway. 

Rose murmured a soft goodnight and received smiles and nods. 

She tightened her grip on Tim’s hand and let her gaze sweep through the long staircase that split in two, heading towards opposite directions. Sarah Jane headed towards the left, looking back to make sure they followed her. The candles Jack had lit, brightened the hall and she was able to see numerous doors down the hall. The tall ceiling of the palace made her feel small but she straightened her back and smiled in reassurance at Tim who leaned against her, trying to stifle a yawn. Rose watched as Sarah Jane approached each door and tried to open them. She seemed undisturbed as they wouldn't open and she kept heading down the hall. Finally one door swung open. 

“Ah, here we are then. This is meant to be your room,” she mentioned for Rose to enter, “Sorry it's a bit dusty, like we said, we don't get many visitors.” 

Sarah Jane reached into her apron pocket and pulled out a small candle and mach. Lighting it, she led them to a dresser and lit unused candles that stood tall in a golden candelabra. Rose examined the curves of the design and Sarah Jane walked to another part of the room and lit more candles. Rose traced the gear like shapes of the candelabra, they reminded her of the inside of a pocket watch, and then turned. She stood staring at the bedroom that was more than ten times the size of the small room she got back at the orphanage. Two tall windows were on either side of a large bed overflowing with pillows. Tim made to climb onto the bed, yawning along the way. 

“Oh Tim, we can find you you’re own room,” Sarah Jane smiled at the tired little boy. 

“Actually I’d prefer if he stayed with me,” Rose walked over to Tim and helped him take his jacket off. 

“Of course,” Sarah Jane stepped closer to Rose, “Is there anything you need?” Rose paused at the small change in demeanor in Sarah Jane. She seemed a bit more nervous and fell into a role of servant rather than peer to Rose. 

“No, we’re fine. Thank you, Sarah Jane,” Rose smiled openly, curiously trying to find the reason for her behavior. 

“I’ll come get you both for breakfast tomorrow morning,” Sarah Jane said then left, closing the door to the room behind her. 

Rose finished tucking Tim into the bed before she began looking around the room, leaving her coat and gloves on an armchair. He had been more tired than she realized. They may not have made it back to the orphanage she thought as she heard his light snoring from the bed. Maybe it was a good thing that she wasn’t able to leave yet. Rose stifled a sneeze as she moved the heavy curtains to one side to look out one of the windows. She couldn’t help the small smile that appeared at looking at the large garden spreading out from the front of the palace. The gentle snowfall and fog obscured her view of anything beyond the palace gates but she still couldn’t quite wrap her head around how much land was part of the palace grounds.

Looking back at the bed, she walked over and slipped off her shoes. The walk and cold had taken a lot out of her. She felt exhaustion settle into her and settled in next to Tim. She took a moment to enjoy how soft the pillows beneath her head were and, although her heavy eyelids were a sign of being tired, sleep evaded her. 

The quiet bothered her. It wasn’t like the silence she was used to. It seemed to echo all around her like emptiness. She swung her legs out of bed and stood up, walking around the room once more. After a while she stood still and tilted her head trying to listen. The silence that had been bothering her was gone, replaced by a low humming. Rose couldn’t be sure if her mind was playing tricks on her, but she felt the restlessness quickly leave her and returned to bed.

  
Before falling asleep, she felt comfort and warmth, like a hug that welcomed her home. Rose couldn’t remember the last time she felt so relaxed and as sleep overtook her she smiled.

 


	5. History Lesson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that there is a mention of suicide in this chapter.

Rose’s meeting with the Prince happened quite by accident. She wasn’t aware of the inner working of the palace, but upon her stay the night before she had assumed that he had been aware of her arrival as well as her imminent stay. Considering his palace did not wish to let her out, it seemed an easy assumption to make. However, she soon learned it was not the case.

 

She and Tim were awakened by one loud knock on the door followed by Sarah Jane rushing in with a smile and with a bursting energy, throwing the large heavy curtains wide open. Sunlight poured in causing Tim to groan and bury himself further into the blankets. Dust motes were visible as the rays of light filtered in. Rose blinked the sleep out of her eyes and squinted toward the window. While the previous night she hadn’t been able to see beyond the gates, she could now discern the large forest that separated the home she had known from this strange and wondrous place.

 

“Looks like the fog’s gone. It’s really sunny out there. How late is it?” Rose quickly sat up, attempting to smooth her hair and hopped off the bed. Sarah Jane stood by the window, smiling widely out at the gardens. Her expression had an aura of disbelief and her eyes did not waver from the sight outside.

 

“We haven’t had sunlight in so long,” she murmured quietly, unsure if Rose was meant to have heard her she began tying up her shoes.

 

“Do you think your doors will let me out today?” Rose smiled, partially joking. Sarah Jane’s smile turned into a frown as she turned and looked at Rose. The pain in her eyes was unmistakable but she quickly hid it behind a smile.

 

“We’ll have to see after breakfast then won’t we? Hurry up, or the food will get cold.” She walked toward Tim who was blearily rubbing his eyes while trying to slide out of bed.

 

Together the three of them made their way to the kitchen. Rose looked curiously around her as they walked the same hallways they had in the darkness. Now that the palace was flooded with dim light coming in through the dusty windows, she could make out small intricate details all around her. The white moulding on the high ceilings had statues of cherubs and small animals smelling and holding out flowers, the portraits hanging on the walls were dusty but held in gold frames with swirling designs. As they walked past the front door Rose looked at it in wonder. The dull blue color of the door was now brighter and the gold handles gleamed in the sparse light that entered through the tall windows on either side. She looked at it for rope, perhaps a system of some sort that caused the door to shut, proof that the door did not in fact close itself but someone was in charge of it. She found nothing and was left with more questions. Magic, maybe. She made it a point to believe in almost everything.

 

Sitting down at the table they had occupied the past evening was much more difficult in the morning. There were new faces she hadn’t seen before all crowding around trying to take food from various bowls, talking over one another and laughing. It looked and sounded like a celebration. Certainly a far more different atmosphere than what Rose had arrived to. As soon as Sarah Jane made it closer to them with Rose and Tim in tow the occupants of the table all went silent and stared at them. Some pausing with food halfway to their mouths and others mid chew. Rose fidgeted while Tim looked at them suspiciously.

 

“You must be Rose!” a man stood up grinning widely, “I’m Mickey.” Everyone once again started talking and continued eating. 

 

“Almost everyone that works here comes to the kitchen around this time for breakfast,” Sarah Jane explained. Rose smiled as she was shown to a seat and served a plate. The man, Mickey, took his seat again grinning at someone sitting next to him and once again continuing his conversation.

 

Tim got more talkative as everyone around him smiled at them and handed them food. Rose did not miss the curious looks they threw at her every other time. Carefully avoiding direct eye contact she focused on the porridge in front of her.

 

“And Wilf said that the tower that faces the stream echoes when the birds fly in so it sounds like ghosts,” Tim finished his story.

 

“Who’s Wilf? Lynda said he was minding you while they were in the kitchen last night.”

 

“Well I don't see him here with everyone. He said he’s friends with the Prince. He’s really nice. He let me play with the old watches he polishes,” Tim grinned at Rose, his mouth smeared with food. Rolling her eyes Rose wiped at his face and with a grimace he took the napkin from her hand. “Is there really a Prince here Rose?” The intrigue in his tone was not disguised in the slightest and she had to admit she was also curious about the Prince that had been mentioned. 

 

Before she could answer the kitchen door slammed open. A tall looming figure stood in the doorway and Rose shivered holding Tim closer to her side. Something felt off.

 

“What’s going on here?” his voice was loud, imposing, she resisted the urge to cower away but saw others quickly stand and step back. Rose slowly stood with Tim at the end of the table, trying to reassure him with a squeeze on his shoulder.

 

Behind the man Jack ran in, grimacing at everyone and his eyes falling on Rose last.

 

“James,” Jack began walking in front of him, “I was just on my way to speak to you.” he grinned nervously and his eye contact wavered from the icy blue ones that turned their ire on him.

 

“You told me they would be gone last night,” his gaze swept over the crowd by the table, all who flinched in return as he looked at them, and stopped on Rose and Tim.

 

She held his gaze, fighting the instinct that told her to look away, that little voice in her head that whispered ‘get out; danger.’ She focused her stare. It felt like looking at the palace for the first time when she had been searching for Tim. Like a haze was covering him and flickering in and out. He was tall. A bit taller than Jack, dressed in old worn out clothes. His shirt was barely buttoned up and his boots looked close to falling apart. She examined his face last, although his eyes were the first feature she had noticed. He had a prominent nose above a grown out beard and messy hair close to reaching his shoulders. Her eyes flickered back to his. Blue like the first frost of winter. Beautiful. They made her pause, held her tethered to….something. It felt like finding that which had been missing. Something in her saying ‘this is where it all begins’. She felt a dull throb at her temple but ignored it. Her curiosity always won out.

 

His angry expression turned to curiosity and confusion.

 

“My Prince,” Jack called back his attention but James only tilted his head toward him, his eyes not leaving Rose, “There was a situation with allowing their departure.” Finally tearing his gaze away he looked at Jack. Rose breathed a sigh of relief and disappointment. His intense gaze had her quivering in her spot. She wasn't sure if it was out of fear or the pain and wonder she could see in his eyes. She had wanted to see beyond the haze around him but to do so meant battling her body’s natural response. It felt wrong to look straight at him, but it felt wrong to look away from him as well. Rose tuned back into the conversation happening in front of them, noticing those around her, especially Lynda were itching to leave the room, fidgeting and glancing at the doorway.

 

“Show me,” the Prince’s words were curt and he turned and walked out the door. Jack nervously beckoned Rose to follow him and everyone at the table quickly made room for her to pass. She nudged Tim toward Sarah Jane, and taking a deep breath she walked with Jack. She could see out of the corner of her eye some of them following far behind, making sure to maintain their distance, and Sarah Jane leading Tim back to his plate of food. Those that followed stayed where the hallway opened to the foyer. 

 

Once they reached the entryway, the Prince looked straight at the door and nowhere close to her.

 

“Open the door.” As soon as the command was given Jack rushed over and opened it, a cool burst of wind chilling them. Finally the Prince looked at her his eyes seemed to watch her every movement. She felt as though he could see each unsteady breath she took or the twitch of muscles as she hesitated in walking to the door. Could he see her heart pounding in her rib cage as well? 

 

With a shaky breath she took cautious steps toward the door. She hated the slamming sound of it from all the times it had closed the night before. She had felt it verbarate in her feet each time. Her slow steps made the door shut more calmly, but quickly nonetheless. The noise not so harsh as the night before, Rose only startling slightly from the sudden movement. She looked back at him, standing by the staircase. He was still. Not even a hint of a response and his eyes seemed to be watching something else unfold. He was lost in a memory perhaps, or some long lost dream. It surprised Rose how interested she was to know what was going on behind the turmoil in his eyes.

 

His face was grave, lips pressed thin. He didn't look at her as he turned to walk away and she found that she wanted him to. She clenched her hands into fists at her side.

 

“You'll have to stay. Indefinitely.” His voice echoed in the hall and gave no room for argument. 

 

“I can't stay here!” The silence after her outburst was heavy like the air before a storm. He turned, his eyes pierced through her and her heart stuttered.

 

“I'm afraid you don't have a choice in the matter.”

 

Although Rose understood that there was something more at work, some force that wouldn't allow her to leave, and wasn’t that just ridiculous to think of, his lack of explanation and indifferent attitude made her feel cold and alone. As if he were the one condemning her to this fate. It was unexpected, the surge of despair that went over her. The plea that was ready to escape from her lips. A plea for what, she wasn't sure. Freedom? But she barely had freedom at the orphanage. She only set foot out when she was expected to run errands into town. And even then her trips were limited. Nevertheless, she took a step toward him as he left. His shoulders tense, he paused only for a moment before he continued walking away as no words could leave her lips.

 

She was sure her eyes betrayed her as she turned to look at everyone else. All the people that had just witnessed what felt like a life sentence. They all looked unsure. Struggling with opposing emotions she saw. Some relieved and others ashamed.

 

Wanting no one to see the building tears fall she turned to look at the staircase.

 

“Jack, you owe me a story,” she was surprised her voice held none of the fear and sadness she could feel overcoming her. She felt a calmness wash over her that allowed her laboured breaths to ease and turn to face the man with an apologetic look on his face.

 

“Come with me,” he held out a hand and she looked at his sad gaze only for a moment before she took it, “Lynda, tell Sarah Jane to keep Tim entertained for a while.” Lynda nodded and left in a hurry.

 

***

 

Rose wasn’t sure how many doors they passed or which turns they took to wind up at the open doors of a library. Jack walked to the windows at the back of the large room, the high ceilings making him look small, and pulled the curtains aside, only a small cough and grimace revealing his disgust at the accumulated dust. Rose stood by the doorway and slowly made her way in, taking in the filled shelves and haphazard piles of books all around her, piles that tilted every which way as though one small movement would cause them to tumble to the floor.

 

He led her to several tables all full of books. Some were stacked like the books by the shelves and others lay open. Some had pages ripped and corners bent, their spines broken from constant use.

 

He stopped at one of the longer tables by the window and gestured for her to sit down. Rose carefully took a seat in the wooden chair, opposite from Jack, flattening her palm on her skirts resting on her thigh. Glancing at all of the books Jack picked one up and flipped a couple pages in, then placed it in front of her. She looked at him in question and he motioned for her to look and read the page. She leaned forward. It was an old book, she could tell by the delicate feel of the page as she touched the edges of it and the illumination surrounding the letter R at the beginning of the sentence. A book like that seemed like a treasure.

 

“These books were not here before. Well not all of them,” Jack rearranged other books around them. “This library is bigger than it used to be and contains more knowledge than anyone has ever had at their disposal. These are books written and lost long ago found again and books that have yet to be written.”

 

“What does that mean? How can you have books that haven’t been written yet?”

 

“It’s early,” he smirked, “We’ll have time to get to all that. I’m here to tell you the basics of why certain things are the way they are. The rest you will find out soon enough. Just read the page.”

 

Rose leaned over the script once more and focused.

 

Jack stood and went to read behind her shoulder. Impatiently drumming his thumb on the table. It only distracted her for a moment before she focused on the content of the book she was reading. She finished quietly and slumped back in her chair. 

 

“So Prince James, son of Odeia and Robert of House Lungbarrow. King and Queen of Gallifrey,” she trailed off, “But that’s impossible.We haven’t had a King or Queen in ages.”

 

“You’ll start to believe the impossible around here,” he sat back down and leaned back, balancing the chair on two legs. “Have you never heard of the palace in the mountains? I was under the impression when this was built that it would never be forgotten.”

 

“That's a legend,” Rose said, “the palace in the mountains has never been seen. It was a story from centuries ago. Surely this can’t be it.”

 

“What did the story say? About the palace?” Jack urged.

 

Rose’s eyes unfocused as she remembered the times her mother had told her the story to put her to sleep. She had adored imagining the gleaming halls, the idea of Kings and Queens and the parties they must have had. “It was said that there was a family, a royal family back before The Lords took over, who overlooked the trade and protected this region. And they lived on a palace built into the side of the mountains that separated our region from others.” She paused and glanced back at Jack. “But that story originated hundreds of years ago. The Lords disposed of any other form of rulership, and even then Kings and Queens never existed, this book shouldn't even exist. No one truly knows if there was ever anyone who looked over us. How could a palace this large be hidden away? Someone would have found it.”

 

“Not if it was being shielded away. Waiting.”

 

“For what?”

 

Jack grinned, “Time is a tricky thing, even I don’t know everything. But sometimes, timing is everything, and waiting is key.”

 

“You know that makes no sense. Do you say things just to seem clever?”

 

“I didn’t know a critique would come with this explanation. Otherwise I would have let Sarah Jane do it.”

 

“If this is that palace then where are the King and Queen? What happened to all of this to change everything that I know? That all the people of the region know? ”

 

“There was an accident. The whole family was in a building, invited to celebrate the engagement of a distant relative. There was a- well…” He trailed off and clenched his jaw. Taking a deep breath he continued, “Only James managed to survive. He became angry. He hated the world and well, the world didn’t seem to like him so much either. One night a woman came to the door. Turns out she was some messenger from these ancient beings. At the time we didn’t know what they were, I’ll be sure to give you a book about them to read, but she cursed him and us. This whole palace is trapped. We can never leave and no one can ever see us.”

 

“But Tim found you,” she interrupted, “and so did I, for that matter.”

 

He smiled in delight, “Yes, and you’re the first visitors we’ve had in three hundred twenty odd years.”

 

“Three hundred twenty?” she looked at him in disbelief.

 

“Give or take a decade or so. However, I’m not done with the story. So Prince James was cursed-”

 

“How?”

 

“Couldn’t you tell?” he looked at her inquisitively. When she showed no sign of recognition he sat forward the chair once again on all four legs, “No one can look at him without feeling fear, disgust, sometimes even hatred. How did you not see it? Or feel it?” 

 

“I think I did feel it, somewhat. It was like the palace,” she shrugged slightly shaking her head, “I was a bit afraid at first but I could see it flickering in and out. It gave me a headache trying to see past it, but I see him fine. At least for the short time he was there.” she laughed trying to lighten the mood but Jack just stared at her incredulously.

 

“You don’t realize,” his eyes searched her face, trying to find what made her so special. Trying to come to terms with why everything was happening now rather than years before. The centuries they had spent in a constant terrifying routine. There had been many days when they'd all considered ending their own lives in some way or other. Morbid curiosity after the first 100 years, of what would happen. Accidents, if they could be called that, from wrists being slit by broken plates to getting tangled in the cords of the thick hanging curtains and hanging by the neck, had plagued several people. But they all lived, they felt no pain and healed from self inflicted wounds. It was only the creatures of the gardens that could kill them, but no matter how desperate they were to be done with the curse, no one would dare face the torture of the gardens. Jack had to remain strong for everyone, he had to make them laugh, had to bring something new to each hopeless day that had passed. And now, he felt it in the tips of his fingers, in the buzzing energy of everyone in the palace, something was changing. It could be felt like a current surrounding everything. He grinned at the confused Rose.

 

“So he was cursed,” he jumped back in with the same carefree tone as before, “So were we, and so was this palace. We didn't realize at first. James’s curse was easy to see, to feel, but us…we wanted to call for a doctor and sent out a servant, as soon as he reached the outer gates they slammed shut. People began panicking, tried to climb up and jump to the other side but were pulled back…” he trailed off and Rose saw him reliving those moments.

 

“What happened?” She whispered, his eyes focused back on her.

 

“The beginning was tough on all of us. Some had family out in the town but there was no way to leave. We thought that surely someone would come looking, wondering what had happened to the Prince if not for us, but no one came.” Jack cleared his throat, and shot her a wistful smile. “The woman that had come to the door, she was a corpse. A maid said she was had been the wife of a farmer from the outer region. She had died several weeks before she showed up at our doors.”

 

Rose’s eyes widened as she stared at Jack, bewildered.

 

“The message she gave us…” he trailed off and looked away from her, “this palace is a doorway. Creatures appear and wander the halls. Each room in the palace changes locations. You could open a door and find a jungle then open the same door sometime later and find something completely different. We have been given the pleasure of being, overseers of sorts.”

 

“That is...insane,” although her response was disbelieving her face was open with curiosity, “But, you said it’s a curse, so there must be a way to break it, surely. Don’t all curses have a way of being broken?”

 

He looked at her, a faint smile on his face then stood and held out his hand. Confused she took it and stood.

 

“There is only one way it can be broken,” he tucked hand in the crook of his elbow and led her out of the library, “but it’s not something we can force. It has to happen naturally. Now, let me show you these magical rooms we have here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is long overdue. Sorry for the wait.


	6. Mirrors and Friendship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Rose and the Prince have a conversation.

Rose flipped through the pages of the book Jack had given her, starting once more from the beginning. She could not concentrate, could not allow her thoughts to stop for even a single moment. It was no surprise really. Jack had taken her from one room to another, briefly opening doors and allowing her to look but not step inside. She had felt the humid heat of jungles, the nipping cold of frozen mountains. She had heard the call of birds and roar of animals she had never known existed. A room that held the stars within your reach. A room that held the sea. She took a deep breath, trying to calm down the excited beating of her heart and tingles on the soles of her feet, telling her to go. To explore the doors of the hallways they had passed without wandering into. She could barely sit still, tapping her foot against the leg of the table. All she had experienced that morning were wonders. Rooms she wanted to spend hours in. But jack had told her to be careful. She also remembered the darkness she had seen, the strange coldness that had swept through her.

The door had looked the same as all the others and Jack had been joking about the room that held birds of all different colors. The one that had left feathers in her blonde hair. But as soon as he had looked into the room, his face had gone grim.

“It’s a black hole.”

Rose had hesitated, beside the door. The sight brought her terror and awe. She was unsure if she was meant to know what that was, “A what?”

“A force so strong that light and time cannot escape it. If you fell into the event horizon you’d be trapped, never able to escape it. And no one would ever be able to see you fall.” Jack had shut the door making it clear that if she ever opened a door and saw the sight she had seen, to never go in.

“Alright then. I’ll avoid that room.”

She had tried to make light of the situation, uncomfortable with Jack’s sudden severity, but he persisted.

“There are several doors you must not open, no matter what. Several doorways you must not walk through. You could be gone for hours, days, years without realizing.”

“How is that possible?”

“Time doesn’t work quite like you’re used to. I’m not good at explaining it. You would have to speak to James about that.” He had led her to another hallway with more doors, now carefully peeking in before showing her.

“Yes, I’m sure he’ll be delighted to explain the intricacies of whatever is happening here to me,” she rolled her eyes, all the while hearing Matron Redfern’s stern disapproval at the unlady like behavior in the back of her head. No one here seemed to mind her slightly improper behavior too much, then again they had bigger problems to worry about she supposed.

“Don’t worry I’m sure you can convince him,” he grinned at her with a strange gleam in his eyes. She shook her head at his amusement, certain that no matter how nicely she asked the Prince he wouldn’t want to bother explaining anything to her. She remembered the way he had looked at her. Not really like a person, but a curiosity, like an odd animal that had startled his day to day activities.

“How will I know which rooms I can go into without losing time?”

“This old girl will let you know, she looks out for us all,” he stopped to rub at the wall of the palace. And turned to her. “She’s alive in a sense. So much energy in this mountain it’s brought out another form of life.”

“Energy,” she analyzed the concept in her head trying to come up with a logical explanation. But logic was out the window really wasn’t it? There was no rational explanation for anything that had happened. “How is all of this possible? Where did this energy come from?”

“Prince James can-“

“Explain it better. Okay I understand. I’ll have to talk to him to quench my curiosity,” she smiled and kept walking at his side. Everything she witnessed since her arrival seemed to come straight from fantasies and dreams. Perhaps not everyone’s dreams, but certainly hers. How often had she spent peering out of the windows of the orphanage, mending clothing while her mind wandered through far off lands. Encountering strange animals and even stranger people. She had thought it impossible for her feet to touch new lands. The lands she read about in the old adventure books that fell apart in her hands from her constant flipping of pages. And now it was all within the very halls she walked through. A disappearing palace in the mountains. It was thrilling, it was magical. It filled her with a wonder that could have easily brought tears to her eyes. Yet she couldn’t help but worry about the other person, who hadn’t asked for this. Who was not confined to the palace except only by his tie to her.

“You said none of you could leave the palace,” Rose paused as he nodded his affirmation, “And we’ve established that I can’t leave. So, how will Tim get back?”  
  
“You could send him out when the storm dies down, but-”

“Can’t send him out to the woods on his own, there are wild animals about that wouldn’t hesitate to tear him limb from limb.”

“I’m afraid that’s also possible here. While we’re on that, please be careful when you head out to the gardens. Do so only in the daytime and if you can manage to avoid it even better.”

“What’s in the gardens?”

“The things nightmares are made of.”

The creak of the opening door made her head snap up from the blur of words running together in her sight. By the doorway stood Prince James, his head bowed down, attention on a small book in his hands, his face severe and thoughtful. He didn’t appear as intimidating as when she had seen him in the foyer. Pushing her adventure with Jack to the back of her mind, she examined his more unguarded face. His eyes weren’t visible from the angle she had and the long shaggy hair falling across his cheeks obscuring her view. His beard covered most of his mouth. Rose wanted him to raise his head so she could see him better. There was something about him, beyond the curse Jack had explained to her, beyond the strange feeling of seeing double she got when she first saw him, it was her nurturing instinct that sought out a way to comfort someone that looked so lonely and haunted. To offer a helping hand for the burden that lay heavily on his shoulders.

A shiver went through her as he raised his eyes and met her gaze. She could practically feel his defenses go up at the sight of her in the room.

He paused by the door, an apprehensive gaze sweeping across her. Smiling tentatively, she greeted him, “Hello.”

He shifted uneasily before taking another step toward her.

“I didn’t realize you were in here,” he paused and turned back to the door, “I’ll leave now.”

“No, wait!” She stood from her chair and he looked at her curiously again, “I wouldn’t mind the company, Prince James. That is if you’re not busy?” He looked confused and uncertain.

“James,” he said abruptly, before pausing and walking toward a worn blue seat.

“What?” She asked as he sat and picked up a book from the pile on the floor next to the leg of the seat.

“Call me James. I’m not a Prince of anything.”

“Well, in that case, call me Rose,” she grinned at him, trying to get him to lose the tense set of his shoulders. She received a grimace as his response. Bringing his attention to the book in his hand, he opened to a dog eared page. The book he previously held he tossed into the pile next to him. Rose noticed the corners of the books were worn and pages folded in as he picked up a pen that lay by an inkwell from the side table and started scribbling in the book.

She saw his jaw tense when she walked closer to him, but he did not lift his head.

“Jack said I should ask you about some things I needed?”

“What do you need?” He didn’t look up, but continued to scribble in the margin of the book and flip pages.

“How do I get Tim to arrive back home safely? Because I understand that somehow I’m trapped here and you’ll have to explain more on that, I do have a right to know, but it’s not right for him to be trapped here as well.”

He paused in his scribbling and tersely nodded.

“No it’s not. And I’ve been thinking of a way to get him out-“

“You have?” He looked uncomfortable and seemed to restrain himself from fidgeting in his seat.

“I have something I can give him, to help him find his way through the woods and keep him protected.”

“You have?” Realizing she repeated herself, she gave a slight blush. Huffing, James finally looked up at her.

“No need to be so shocked,” his face was indignant, more open than she had seen it before from surprise at her own bewilderment. She giggled at him and his eyes once again held her captive. There was that curious look again, searching her face. As though her eyes had something that he had lost long ago. She turned away, uncomfortable with how expectant the look became and he cleared his throat.

“It’s a small hand mirror. I found it not long after-” he shut his book, “well I found it in my room. It will protect him on his journey home and allow him to communicate with you when he wishes to.” He stood and loomed over Rose, his eyes avoiding her. “Come, I’ll show you.” Deftly threw his book on the chair he swept through the door, a bewildered Rose rushing to walk after him.

“So communicate with me, as in I’ll hear his voice?” She quickened her steps to match his long strides across the hall.

“You’ll be able to see him too.” His gruff tone did not bother Rose, though she could yet again picture her tutors at the orphanage chiding about the tone of voice one used and importance of politeness in conversation.

“How does that work then? Not that just hearing his voice across such a distance seems more likely, but to see him? In a mirror?” She could see that her questions surprised him, as his head tilted in her direction, but he still would not look at her.

“It’s not of this world. The mirror is connected to another. Only through its counterpart can you communicate,” He opened a door to their right and walked through. There were strange gears and metal pieces strewn on tables, crates full of old clocks and knicknacks littered all over the floor. Rose quickened her pace to catch up to James, who was opening a large trunk at the side of a table further in the room. Her foot caught on the edge of a picture frame and she tumbled forward. Two hands gripped her forearms and prevented her face from crashing onto the rather sharp looking bits of metal poking out from a barrel. She winced as she was abruptly let go once she regained her balance.

“Can you pay attention to where you’re walking,” James growled at her and his voice sent shivers down her spine. There it was again, that little voice of instinct telling her to run. But she was stubborn and possibly slightly idiotic. What was that saying her mother would repeat, about poking a bear with a stick? Rose scowled right back.

“It’s not as though I meant to trip,” her arms on her hips, she walked closer to him, “You might want to clean this mess so people can actually see that a floor exists beneath all this rubbish.” He went back to shuffling through the open trunk, scoffing.

“All of these things are valuable.”

“Could have fooled me,” she slid her finger over a shelf and shook off all the dust that clung to her hand, disapproving eyes looking over the whole mess. James stepped forward huffing and handed Rose two hand mirrors effectively changing the subject. “You just have to think of the person you want to see while holding it in your hands, then the image will distort and the person will be aware of when you’re calling on them.”

“This is amazing,” Rose whispered her face lighting up, forgetting her previous grievance. She had never thought such a thing could exist let alone that she would get the opportunity to hold it in her hands, “How will this protect Tim? Not necessarily something you could fight wild animals off with is it?” James rolled his eyes and took one of the mirrors out of her hand, he pointed toward a red gem on the side of the handle.

“This will make him almost invisible to the predators in the woods.”

“Almost?” she asked. Suddenly unsure if the mirrors would be the best plan to get Tim back into normal life and not trapped alongside her.

“Almost invisible but provides him with a protective field. He won’t have any problem getting through safely,” he reassured her. He seemed uncomfortable again, shifting his attention back to the tabletop holding all matter of tools Rose had no knowledge of. His social etiquette seemed lacking. It would surely acquire stares from the people Rose knew at the orphanage. The benefactors would have certainly never seen him as trustworthy or given him the time of day. He didn’t resemble any prince Rose had ever read about or whose images she’d seen captured in the oil paintings that hung at the orphanage. But once again she felt a tug at her heart at the kindness she showed her and young Tim, although difficult to suss out from his stiff countenance, it was evident that he cared, enough to have been thinking of how to help them anyway. She didn’t realize how close to him she had wandered until she saw him freeze completely in his arrangement of tools. She felt a flush rise in her cheeks but refused to let it deter her. Placing her hand gently on his arm, she waited until he looked up at her.

“Thank you,” she saw a glimpse of surprise and gratitude in his eyes and slowly took her hand back, “Can I ask some questions now?”

“Isn’t that all you’ve been doing?” he flinched slightly after his remark, belatedly realizing how rude it was but Rose rolled her eyes. Being constantly rebuked by tutors on etiquette did nothing to warm her to the stilted cold way of ‘properly’ conversing with others. She preferred when people spoke their mind rather than hide behind platitudes. Putting down the hand mirrors on the work table, Rose pulled a chair from amongst the mess surrounding them. She sat close to him and looked at him expectantly. His startled demeanor made her feel more comfortable because she suddenly came to consider just how lonely he must have been for all those years that no one could feel comfortable around him. Was this the only conversation he’d had with someone who didn’t cower in disgust or fear?

“My first question, I believe is the most important one,” she waited until he met her eyes, “Why can’t I leave?”

“The palace won’t let you.”

“I’m aware of that,” Rose resisted rolling her eyes again, “But why? Why me? What am I meant to be doing here in order to leave?” Her frustration at her situation increased now that she was discussing it. While she wasn’t as adverse to it as she previously had been, there were so many unknown factor leaving her confused. It didn’t matter that she would have loved to stay had the situation been different, but the fact that she was being forced to stay certainly changed her view of the situation.

“I’m not entirely sure,” he began, hesitating as he rolled a coin back and forth on the table, “The only explanation that makes sense to me relates...to the reason we all can’t leave.”

“Jack explained about the curse,” she interrupted, and suddenly had his full attention again.

“And what exactly did he say?”

“That you are all forced to oversee the palace. That it’s alive and acts as a doorway. He didn’t give me too much information really. He said you’re better informed about it.” He leaned against the table and looked around the room.

“I’m afraid the palace has a mind of her own. But she’s always looked out for us. Never done anything on a whim.” He seemed to gather his thoughts before turning back to her. “The mountain in which the palace is built into has energy leaking from a crack within. The energy is extremely powerful. Able to change the reality you’re used to. Creatures sometimes appear in the castle and the gardens. Creatures not of this world but another.” His explanation only seemed to confuse her even more, “I’m telling you all this because you have a right to know. I am sorry that you have no say in the matter of you staying here, but somehow your presence may help all of us finally be free.” Guilt was clearly evident in his downturned face as he focused back on the table, returning objects to the trunk and shutting it. Rose took a deep breath.

“So nothing to serious then. Just everyone’s happiness and freedom suddenly being up to me.” She chewed on her bottom lip, standing and picking up the mirrors. From the corner of her eye she saw James clench his hands into fists and she was able to discern the self loathing in his eyes. She certainly did not want to leave him on his own, looking so sad. Perhaps she already felt attached to this lonely man who frankly had no one but her to converse with like a normal person. Rather than feel the pressure she had previously felt at the idea of being the new sprung hope for his and the others freedom, Rose realized she would not mind being his friend. She let the wonder of a new adventure, of a once in a lifetime opportunity, course through her being, letting the fear of the unknown that lurked beneath the wonder fade away. She set her shoulders with a new found stubborn determination.“Care to walk me to my room?”

His befuddled expression was reward enough, certainly better than the look he had previously sported. She motioned to the door with a wry smile and he immediately regained his composure.

“Right, of course.” He took quick steps to the doorway and hesitated before walking through, suddenly gesturing for her to pass first, as if remembering his manners. She hid her grin by turning her face towards her shoulder finding his uncertain behavior endearing.

“I’ll let Tim know to head for home tomorrow morning. I’ve barely seen him since he went off to find Wilf with Jack.” James nodded at her but stayed silent. Not one for uncomfortable silences Rose searched for more topics of discussion. “Any advice on living in an enchanted palace?”

“It’s not exactly enchanted,” he corrected but she just shook her head in amusement. His mouth turned up slightly in a smile. A promising change to the dour face she had mostly been privy to. “The gardens should be avoided as much as possible. Mostly at night but be careful in daytime as well.”

“Jack mentioned the gardens. Those ‘creatures from other worlds,’ they live in the gardens then?”

“Some of them. But remember, the energy in the mountain also changes what you think you know. The plants in the garden used to be completely harmless. Now some of them are poisonous, some grow at extremely fast rates, and some are even alive.” Rose listened intently, glancing at the side of his face every few steps. “There are some creatures that have a very interesting way of luring prey. They look like us, sound like us. They wait in the depths of the pond. Don’t get too close to them. No matter how much they beg for help. They will only drag you down into the depths with them.” Rose shivered, her curiosity begging to see the creatures but her notice of the severity in James’s voice allowing self preservation to win over. They had made it to the foyer and he paused in his walk, finally looking at her rather than the floor. “Within in the palace you’re safe. Just don’t trust the statues. They don’t always stay still.”

She tilted her head in confusion and jumped as she heard giggling and scattering from above. The cherubs that used to be in the corner of the intricate molding had moved. She looked at him wide eyed and once again he seemed to be fighting back a small smile.

“They’re harmless. Just mischief makers.” Nodding towards the hall that led to her room, he took a step back from where they’d come from, “Sarah Jane will let you know when dinner is ready so you can talk to Tim.”

“Will you be there?” He stared at her for a second before shaking his head.

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning, to send Tim off.” Turning quickly he walked back down the hall.

His abrupt departure left Rose slightly put off, but she recalled the small smiles she had been able to coax out of him. He wasn’t as stoic and gruff as her first impression of him had led her to assume. Knowing more about the type of life he had been forced into for the past several centuries if Jack was to be believed, made her perception of him shift towards a more favorable light. With a soft smile in his direction Rose turned and walked to her room.


End file.
